


Domestic Enough

by crazygirlne



Series: Western Immersion Verse [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestics, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How will the Doctor handle it when he sees Rose knitting something for a baby?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by travelsinthetardis: Nine x Rose, Rose knitting something for a baby (not hers)
> 
> Author's Note: This fits into the Western Immersion 'verse after Everything Else Fades Away but can also be read alone.
> 
> Beta: scullywolf

“Haven’t you had enough of the domestics yet?”

The Doctor’s arms were crossed, leather pulled tight, as he eyed Rose, who was sitting on the library sofa with knitting needles and yarn.

Rose looked up at him, tongue creeping to that particular spot between her teeth. “We spent one day at mum’s and you’re right back to trying to escape the domestics.” She made no move to stop, instead returning her attention to whatever frippery she was making out of yarn.

“You say that like I _stopped_ trying to escape the domestics.” He huffed and sat next to her, picking up a book to excuse the move.

The Doctor flipped through the book absently. He wouldn’t want her to think he was pouting.

It wasn’t that he hated _all_ domestics. Rose had a knack of making them bearable. Better than, sometimes, like when she read to him while he worked underneath the TARDIS console.

Having a hand to hold during adventures wasn’t half bad, either.

Nor was he about to argue with having a soft, warm Rose Tyler in his bed.

But spending time with her mother just because Rose asked, sitting on the sofa while she did something as ordinary as knitting...

“Time Lords don’t do this kind of domestic, Rose.”

He wasn’t whinging.

“Not making you sit here with me, am I?” The smile she gave him softened her words, and he felt his own expression morph into the one he seemed to wear most of the time he was around her, one he was sure told the world how he felt about her.

She went back to her knitting, and his eyes felt pulled to the activity. The rhythmic motions were soothing, and there was something almost mesmerizing about watching her take yarn and turn it into--

He stopped breathing for a full three seconds. “Rose.”

“Doctor?” She continued, not looking at him.

“What are you making?” His hearts raced.

“A sweater.”

The Doctor studied the half-made article of clothing.

“Don’t think that’ll fit you, Rose.”

“Course not. It’s for the baby.”

The _baby_? She would tell him if she was… right? It shouldn’t be possible, not without some significant genetic tinkering, at minimum. He’d made sure, after their first night (well, and after the morning afterward), because he wanted to keep her safe.

To keep her his.

“You weren’t listening at mum’s.” Rose had set down her needles and was looking at him. She didn’t seem upset. She’d be upset if he’d forgot he was about to be a father, wouldn’t she? “Mum has to go to a baby shower next week, and she asked if I’d make this for her to bring. I got some practice knitting again while we were stuck.”

Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely recalled a discussion over supper with Jackie, something about whether Rose still remembered how to make something she used to. Presumably, that would be the baby sweater.

“Oh.” He smiled tightly, and she turned to face him.

“What’s wrong?” Rose took his hand, and he squeezed it but didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes widened. “You thought I was making it for us, didn’t you? Doctor, we haven’t even been… Well, suppose it’s been long enough, technically, but you said we couldn’t, yeah?”

“We can’t.” He kept his eyes on the knitting.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just for a second, I thought… I panicked.” He flicked his eyes up to hers, finding warmth and concern and confusion.

“That would be pretty domestic, I guess, me and you and a baby,” she ventured.

“It would yes, but that’s not…” Nine hundred years old and he couldn’t even put a proper sentence together sometimes. Nine hundred years old, and he wasn’t… “I’m not ready. We haven’t had enough time together, you and me. Not ready to share you yet.” Her life would be so short that he might never be ready to share her, not to the extent a child would require.

The frown lines smoothed from her forehead. “Doctor, I’m not looking to get pregnant any time soon. Maybe never. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The understanding in her eyes was his undoing. “Rose.” He pulled her to him, bringing his lips down on hers, tasting the sweetness that was one Rose Tyler.

“Mmm.” Rose placed her hands on his chest, first caressing, then pushing him away gently. “You were worried I was gonna have a baby. Don’t care that we shouldn’t be compatible. If you were that worried, we need back up before this goes any further than a kiss.”

“Can do.” He took her hand and pulled her to stand, her body flush against his next to the sofa. He kissed her thoroughly, then led her to the infirmary, knitting forgotten by both.


End file.
